Matters In Hand
by Spooky Spice
Summary: When you’re fed up with circumstances, you take matters into your own hands...er, paws.
1. I CAN'T STAND IT!

Title: Matters In Hand (Sequel to "Best of Friends")  
  
Author: Spooky Spice  
  
Rating: PG-13 (to be safe for now)  
  
Category: Humor/Romance/Angst  
  
Summery: When you're fed up with circumstances, you take matters into your own hands...er, paws.  
  
Disclaimer: No, I don't own The X-Files. However, Mr. Bear and ZachRyah are all mine.  
  
Spoilers: "Audrey Pauley", "Release"...if you see any others, let me know.  
  
Feedback: Do I have to beg? spookyspice24@yahoo.com  
  
Archive: It's on my site:   
  
Author's Notes: Hey, look! It's the sequel I never thought I'd write! Well, it's all thanks to SciFiNerdGrl who gave me the idea from doing it from Luke's bear's POV. Picks up from the end of my previous story "Best of Friends."  
  
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Chap 1: I CAN'T *STAND* IT!!!  
  
Ok, that's it! I am so sick and tired of his whining and complaining about Monica and how he's not sure if she feels the same way and if they pursued a relationship, there could be all sorts of unspeakable wrath rained down upon them from the 7th floor and blah blah blah...  
  
AAAAAGGGHH!!!  
  
Why can't he just tell her and put himself out of my misery?!  
  
Oh, I'm ZachRyah, by the way. Call me Zack. Or Ryah. I answer to both. I know you met Mr. Bear in the previous tale, and had Monica's story. Now it's my turn. Bear will be back later.  
  
So, you're probably wondering who I'm ranting about. I call him Dad, but most of you know him as John Doggett. I was Luke's bear. 


	2. Life As We Knew It

Chap 2: Life as we knew it.  
  
Dad bought me when Luke was born. He'd had a bear when he was little, so Luke should have one. A father-son thing you could call it. One of many.  
  
He was so proud to have a son. I don't think late night feedings and stinky diapers ever entered his head during those early days. Dad would go on and on about what he and Luke would do. Baseball games, football games, camping, fishing, taking Luke to work to show him what his old man did (and maybe entice him to join the force). Mom would laugh and remind him that this boy was only a few hours old.  
  
Dad was a tauntaun on ball bearings in the beginning. (Star Wars reference for those who didn't catch that.) He was like any new dad—afraid he'd drop Luke, worried that he'd hurt him if he patted the baby on the back too hard after feeding him. But he and Mom soon got into the swing of things. I think he can still change diapers like a pro.  
  
Anyway, life was pretty great. Luke grew into a typical kid. We had so many adventures—especially to galaxies far, far away. Yep, Luke was a Star Wars fan. Dad had made us watch A New Hope one Saturday, and Luke was instantly hooked. It was because the hero of the story was also named Luke. What little boy *doesn't* want to be a hero? So forget the dreams of the All Stars or being Chief of Police—Luke wanted to be a Jedi Knight. He fashioned a lightsaber out of a paper towel roll and paint. His bike was now an X-Wing, and I was R2-D2. I was tied to the front handlebars (Luke and his friends would argue that I and the other bears should be in back, but it was finally agreed that it was safer to be in front. That was if one of the bears fell off, it would be noticed right away.) and off we would go to fight the evil Empire. When Dad was home, he'd play with us.  
  
But he wasn't home all the time. You see, Dad was a police officer. Most of Luke's friends' parents were. And they all loved it. When they would hear of one mom or dad getting wounded or killed in the line, they would worry. Luke worried about it a lot, usually the nights when Dad wasn't there to tuck us in. On those nights, we'd pray that Dad would come home safely. And he always did.  
  
On the nights he was home, sometimes we would hear Mom and Dad fighting. Mom didn't like Dad's job. She thought it was too dangerous. "Why can't you get a desk job somewhere?" He'd reply: "I like my job, Barbara. I realize the risks."  
  
"You're missing out on your son's life," she'd shoot back.  
  
"He understands," Dad told her, but he never sounded completely convinced.  
  
Luke did understand. Dad was taking bad guys off the streets and making the world a safer place. We were proud of him, even if Mom wasn't.  
  
That aside, life was good. Luke would go to school, we'd play, Dad would be there to watch Star Wars with us whenever he could, and Mom took care of all of us. Yeah, things were great.  
  
Suddenly—Luke was gone. And I was alone. 


	3. Luke's Gone

Chap 3—Luke's Gone  
  
On this, the last day I saw him, Luke didn't take me with him. Sometimes I think that was his mistake. Not that I could have done anything....  
  
Luke didn't want to play Star Wars that day. His friends were all doing other things, and he got the idea of setting the world's record for the most laps around the block. Mom was gardening and promised to keep count. Dad was at work.  
  
I think Luke had made about nine laps when he didn't come around again. Mom waited a couple of minutes, thinking Luke had found something interesting (Please God, don't let it be a snake). She got suspicious, and went around the block, calling his name. Then she found Luke's bike on its side, but no Luke. Panicked, she ran back to the house and called Dad.  
  
Dad called the FBI. They brought in this new agent named Monica Reyes. Apparently Luke's disappearance looked like some to her kidnappings Agent Reyes had been investigating—ones that dealt with Satanists or some such. To most of the others, she was a little...out there. She received "feelings" or "impressions" about her cases. To me—it didn't matter who she was or what she did to solve her cases as long as she brought back Luke.  
  
They looked everywhere and tried everything. Nothing worked. No one had seen or heard anything. All leads lead to dead ends. Mom was a mess, and Dad wasn't much better. This went on for three days.  
  
I remember Agent Reyes came into our room the first day on the job—to get a "feel" for Luke. I know Dad thought she was crazy, but Mom felt the same way I did: anything to find him.  
  
When Agent Reyes entered the room, she immediately went for me (as I was sitting in plain sight on the bed). She picked me up and we looked at each other. Find him, I begged her. Find him for me, please. We need to defeat Darth Vader, otherwise who knows what could happen?  
  
She stroked one of my ears and tears filled her eyes. She nodded. Message received.  
  
Two days later, they found Luke dead in a field.  
  
It looks like the Empire won. 


	4. Transitions

Chap 4—Transitions  
  
A few months after Luke's funeral, Mom and Dad divorced. I suppose Luke was the glue that held them together. Dad let Mom have the house and he moved into an apartment. He took me with him. I don't think Mom ever noticed. Or if she did, she didn't say anything.  
  
Dad kept Luke's ashes as well. We were put in the back of Dad's closet; I declared myself the guardian. (Luke would have liked that.) I think the reason he didn't put us on the mantle was because he wanted us out of sight, so he could focus on what was ahead. We were never out of mind, however. There were times Dad would pull us out of there and cry. Until he found Luke's killer, nothing would make up for the guilt and blame Dad poured onto himself. I never blamed him for not finding Luke in time. Nor did I blame Mom (who did blame Dad) for not keeping a better eye on him. I blame whoever killed my best friend.  
  
Dad *did* keep in touch with Agent Reyes, though. I suppose that was in part because despite all the other people telling him this wasn't his fault, she was only one he believed. Monica was a good friend to him, even after she moved back to New Orleans. (She never did tell us why she left so suddenly.) She visited us in New York, he went to New Orleans. And now, before you start jumping up and down yelling "Ooh! Ooh! They *did* do it!!", let me assure you that *that* did *not* happen. At least here in New York. (I was in permanent residence in the bedroom closet, remember.) Monica slept on the pull-out couch.  
  
She sensed that Dad wasn't happy with his job, so when she suggested he join the FBI, he jumped at the chance. We moved to Washington, DC after he was accepted. Monica remained in Louisiana, but liked to joke that now she didn't have to travel as far.  
  
So Dad became an FBI agent and excelled at it. Things died down (more or less) until the disappearance of one Fox Mulder. 


End file.
